It's Good to Be King, Not so Good to be General
by Badgergater
Summary: General O'Neill is anxious to get out of the SGC, and that little timeship needs a pilot to fly her home. However, things don't quite go as planned...
1. Chapter 1

It's Good to Be King, But Not so Good to be General

Author: Badgergater

Season: 8

Episode: It's Good to be King

Warnings: None

Pairing: None

Summary: Getting that little ship home leads to big trouble

Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate, or Jack, more's the pity

Author's Notes: A great big thanks to Maria for the beta.

x-x-x

Maybe Maybourne did get the better end of the deal after all.

He's a king with loyal, even adoring subjects; good, well, at least edible food, which really isn't much more than I can say about the chow at the SGC; beautiful women (two wives if he can be believed, which is doubtful); and his very own planet with no telephones, no bosses, no traffic jams, and an excess of fresh air and blue skies. So, yeah, okay the palace wasn't much, and the planet lacked some of life's necessities like TV, hockey, hot water and central heating, but then again, it didn't have any overbearing politicians or annoying bean counters, either, so I guess that more than made up for the other stuff.

But I sure was eager to go on back to Harry's world.

Well, okay, I confess. I was just eager to get out from behind my desk deep under Cheyenne Mountain and somewhere, anywhere, in the wide open universe. Honestly, I'd have rather gone to Minnesota, or Edora or the Beta Site.

But Harry's World would do.

I missed going off world. I missed being out in the open air, far far away from the nit-picky details of my new life as the guy in charge of the SGC. I'll admit it, all those years being the leader of SG-1 had spoiled me. It's a pretty hard act to follow you know, leading the Air Force's, hell, the planet's best and brightest team out into the universe.

Not that being a general isn't pretty cool, at least sometimes, but it's an office job. Which means, I actually have to be in an office.

But then, suddenly, the geeks discovered they needed little ol' me.

Just the other day all those really, really smart scientists studying the timeship finally admitted that I was needed to fly the vessel, couldn't fly the ship without me, in fact. So of course I jumped at the chance to pilot that little alien vessel home.

Me, flyin' an honest to goodness Ancient space ship for cryin' out loud.

Cool.

Way, way cool.

It *was* cool, too, and what made it really, really cool was the fact that I was the only one who could fly her. Not Carter with all her smarts, not Daniel with all his once-ascended knowledge, not Teal'c with all his Jaffa warrior skills, not even any of those hotshot young pilots, but me, Jack O'Neill, kid at heart, getting to play Buck Rogers, Captain Kirk and Han Solo, all rolled into one.

Who could have blamed me for whistling as, clad in my favorite comfort clothes (green BDUs, black t-shirt and boots, tac vest and baseball cap) and carrying the tools of my trade (Beretta, P-90, and knife) I hefted my backpack, waved adios to the SGC, strolled up the gateramp and rode the wormhole to planet Maybourne.

Ahhh, heaven. No office. No telephone, not even a cellphone or a beeper would work offworld. Walter wouldn't be able to track me down anywhere. No politicians could find me. No accountants could annoy me. Not even the president could demand my immediate attention.

Bliss.

Freedom.

Oh, I was so gonna have fun.

Yeah, right.

This is me we're talking about here, Jack O'Neill, two L's and middle name Trouble.

/=====x=====\

This time, as I stepped through the gate and arrived once again on Harry's World (okay, yeah, I know it has a p- something something number but no, I don't care what it is, no matter how upset Carter gets at me for refusing to remember it), fortunately no one was torturing any more ditties, thank god. No one was there to greet me at all. Guess Harry wasn't so impressed any more by the fact that I now wore a star. Though actually, it was probably more a case of Harry didn't need anything from us (like getting his sorry butt saved) so he didn't have to make nice to anyone from the SGC, including me.

Probably especially me.

Still, I swear I was grinning from ear to ear as I exited the gate. I looked around and took a deep breath of the clean, clear, alien air and felt like singing. Which, of course, I don't do, so I didn't. But I felt like it nevertheless.

Maybe I hummed a little though as I stepped down off the gate platform and onto the soft soil of the planet.

Have I mentioned how much I miss going off world? The fresh air, the blue sky, the green grass—hell, I've even missed the damned trees.

My mission this time was simply to fly our new find home, back to good old planet Earth, so we could protect the little time ship while we studied her. She was probably safe enough on this obscure planet since we'd defeated that snake Ares, but Harry was here, and knowing Harry, he was probably cooking up some totally daft scheme to profit by selling it or melting it down for the naquadah or something.

Never trust Harry Maybourne. That's an absolute certainty I learned a long time ago, one of my Top Ten Rules for Surviving Life out here in the Universe.

Leaving Harry and his merry minions to whatever it is Harry and his merry minions do with their time on this world, I bypassed the village and headed out into the countryside. Hiking across the meadows, I walked a half mile west of the village to the spot where I'd landed the Ancient ship after the last flight (which was also the first flight, but that's neither here nor there). As I approached the ship, I saw that the back hatch was standing wide open. Carter was sitting inside in a familiar pose, her head bent over her laptop in concentration. A fat cluster of wires led from the computer up to some doohickey or other sticking out of one of the open panels in the ship's cargo area.

I couldn't stop the grin from forming on my face. Carter could study the ship all she wanted, study it until she was blue in the face, but Carter couldn't do what I could do. She couldn't fly it. I tried to stop smiling and couldn't. Okay, so I wasn't trying very hard. And yes, I know it's not nice to gloat, but Carter is so much smarter than any regular human being, and way so much smarter than me that, on those extremely rare occasions I can do something she can't, I just have to enjoy it to the hilt. Exploit it. Revel in it. Savor it. Yes, even wallow.

"So, Colonel, how's it going? Figure out how this thing works yet?" I asked cheerily as I stepped inside the spacecraft.

She smiled happily- Carter is always happy among her doohickeys. "I know how it works, sir. Well, sort of. Mostly. I think."

"So a ways to go yet then?"

Carter nodded. "Yes, sir," she answered a bit less enthusiastically. "But now that you're here, and we can power up the engines…."

"Chauffeur O'Neill, at the ready." I did a very gentlemanly half bow.

"You're more than the chauffeur, sir."

"Really?"

She frowned. "Well, you're the pilot."

"Yes, I am," I answered happily, sliding past her and flopping down into the pilot's seat. I let my fingers slide possessively across the controls, enjoying the way they lit up at my touch. "We're gonna take this sweet little baby on a test run, see what she can do. Warp five maybe."

"Sorry, sir, no warp engines."

Sheesh, Carter is always raining on my parade. "No warp engines?"

"And this will be only a short run. Through the Stargate—"

"But not back to Earth. I know." The ship wouldn't exactly fit into the gateroom, well, actually, I think maybe she just might squeeze in, but it would be a tight fit, like a cork in a bottle. And she sure wouldn't fit through the doors or into the elevator. And even if we could get her out of the gateroom, flying her from Cheyenne to Area 51 was fraught with complications. So, we were taking the scenic route.

"The closest Stargate to Earth is on Altacar, and then it should be only a few hours flight time home and a landing at Area 51," Carter reminded me of our mission.

Just a few hours? Now that was disappointing. Heck, I wouldn't even be gone long enough to have an excuse to miss the 3 p.m. science department meeting, which is so not the highlight of my day. "I thought this was going to be a long flight?" I asked, plaintively.

"Don't worry, sir, you'll be home before dark."

Damn, that wasn't at all what I wanted. I wanted fun. I wanted adventure. I wanted a whole damned day out of the office. Still, this beat meetings with the accountants about the red ink in my budget, the janitorial staff about the best way to dispose of alien plants and the cooks about the recurring problems with the potatoes (Oh, the excitement of command!). I was going to have to make the most of the little recess time that I had. I looked around the little ship's interior and rubbed my hands together in gleeful anticipation of taking this sweet little machine for an interplanetary spin. "Anyone pack a picnic lunch?"

"No, sir, sorry."

Well, I did have a couple of power bars in my pack, if we needed a snack enroute. "So, when can we go, Colonel?"

"As soon as Daniel and Teal'c get here. Daniel's still studying those prophecies inscribed on the rocks."

"Right."

Just then, we got company. Dr. Lee, looking distracted and harried as usual, came walking up. "Hi, General."

"So, doctor, how have ya' been?" I asked conversationally.

"Good, sir. Well, mostly good. I'd be better if Colonel Carter and I could figure out the modulating frequencies for the sequence adjustor on th…."

I jumped to my feet and waved a hand in the air. "Sorry, I've got to go find Teal'c and Daniel. You two just keep - modulating. Or whatever." And with that, I made a hurried exit.

-x-x-x-x-

The walk was pleasant; it beat the heck out of sitting behind a desk 28 stories underground, that was for damn sure. And it was also a far better use of my time than listening to Carter and Dr. Lee babble on about power sources and energy fields and control circuit watchamacallits.

I strolled through the pristine, silent woods and thought about what it would be like to live in a place like this — plenty of time for fishing, that's for sure.

Fifteen minutes later, I found Daniel in a clearing, staring at rocks. Okay, he wouldn't call them rocks, I'm sure he'd have some fancy-schmancy important-sounding name for them. He was standing close to one of the stone pillars Harry had shown us on our previous trip here, translating the writings, squinting down at the paper as he wrote. Teal'c was helping, offering suggestions for alternate wording.

"And this is," Daniel reached up to run a hand over the carvings, then peered close as if that could help him translate, "a time of great darkness…."

"That is incorrect, DanielJackson. The phrase is 'in the dark of the night'."

"Okay," Daniel scribbled in his notebook. "But that line reads," he pointed to another line of symbols, 'the arrival of a new day'."

"It does not. It is 'the coming of light'."

"Which is the same thing, right?"

"No, DanielJackson…."

It seemed like a good time to interrupt. "Hello, boys," I greeted as I approached. "You're working hard. Discovering this planet's past, or its future?"

Daniel didn't look up from his intense scrutiny of the scratchings on the rock. "This is fascinating material, Jack. Interestingly enough, it seems like there's some of both the present and the future, and quite possibly time…."

"Well, it's time to take a break," I interrupted.

Daniel spared a glance at me, his expression all exasperated. "Not now, Jack, I can't stop. I'm right in the middle…."

I waved a hand in the air, shushing him with my exasperated commander voice, the one I'd practiced on him over and over again for most of the last eight years, to very little effect. "Daniel. These stones have been here for how long?"

"Centuries. And they're not stones, Jack, they're stelas."

I pointed at the stone pillars. "Well, Stella, whoever she was, is long gone in the past…."

"Stela is the Latin word derived from the Greek stele, which means pillar or vertical tablet," Daniel countered. leaping into his finest lecture mode, words tumbling out of his mouth in rapidfire sequence like water rushing over rocks in a stream. "In ancient Egypt, stelae were inscribed slabs of stone or wood, found in a variety of shapes. Commonly, they were used as tombstones or boundary markers, but they can also be, as they are in this case, commemorative…."

I waved a hand in a stop motion. "Okay, okay, call 'em whatever you want, Daniel. But we should be going."

He threw me an annoyed look. "Jack, I can't leave now. I'm making some real progress here."

"Fine, I'll arrange it so you can come back here later, but right now, we have other things to do."

"Jack…."

"Later, Daniel."

"Jack, wait. I never get enough time to study things in situ. Later just doesn't seem to happen. Can't I just keep working? There's so much information here."

I took a deep breath, pointing at the rocks. "Did you find anything written there about today being the day you need to decipher…."

"Jaaack…."

"Daniel, the countdown to liftoff has commenced. I'm flying our new Ancient spaceship back home," I declared with exaggerated patience, tapping a finger on the face of my watch.

"I know, Jack."

"Indeed, O'Neill, we were informed that today you would be piloting the ship back to Earth."

"Yup. Little ol' me. Flying an Ancient's spaceship," I waved my hand through the air again, this time in an arc similar to that of an ascending plane. "Cool, isn't it?" I smiled.

Daniel was frowning, and hedging. "Jack, I've got weeks of work here. I've barely begun translating all of this…."

"But you don't have weeks," I reminded him. "We're leaving today."

"I know, I know, but I was sort of hoping I could stay and you guys could take the ship back without me. I mean, it isn't like I'd actually have anything to do during the trip. I'd just be a passenger, a very bored passenger."

"Ah, yes." I nodded knowingly. "Sort of like me getting bored while you read rocks."

He nodded, not getting the sarcasm at all. Damn, guess I've gotten out of practice, or else, over the years, he's become immune to my rapier wit.

"Yes, exactly," he beamed. "So? I can stay then?"

I may no longer lead SG-1, but he's still the team's resident annoying pain in the ass. "Okay, okay, okay, you can stay here. Teal'c will keep you company."

"I don't need a bodyguard."

I threw him a glare. "Yes, you do. There were Jaffa on this planet, a whole bunch of them. Could be one or two leftovers the mop-up teams missed. And of course, Harry's here. He might decide to trade you to the Furlings for a toaster or something."

"Jack, I can take care of myself," he protested.

"I'm sure. But Teal'c stays. He would just get bored on the ship, too."

Teal'c looked straight at me. "I would not," the big Jaffa disagreed.

I waved my hand in a 'shush' motion, but too late. "He would."

"I would," T backpedaled.

"Okay, so that's settled then. You two stay here, have all sorts of fun reading the rocks, while *I* go flying."

"Bye, Jack." Daniel was already back studying his notes.

T bowed. "Enjoy the flight, O'Neill."

"I will," I answered smugly. "I'll be flying. Flying." I made the swooping motion again with my hand as I started walking away. "Spaceship. Ancient spaceship. Flying. Me."

x-x

By the time I arrived back at the ship, the science nerds had finished packing up the computers, closing all the overhead panels in the cargo area.

"We're ready to go when you are, sir," Carter informed me, taking the co-pilot's seat. "I've got the dial-up coordinates for Altacar."

I settled into the pilot's chair, gazing around me at the console. "So, what do we know about Alcatraz? Nice place? Good food? A bit of night life? Some hot fishing?" I asked.

"Actually, General, it's uninhabited," Bill Lee answered.

Carter was nodding in agreement. "That's why we chose it, sir. No one to report seeing the ship come through."

"Darn. I was hoping for a bit of R and R."

"Better luck next time, sir." Carter didn't sound at all sorry, and her smile looked pretty damn insincere. Of course, when she got done with this mission, she'd be going off on another one while I'd be back behind my desk. Lucky me.

"Guess I'll just have to make the best of it then." I stretched out my arms, wiggled my fingers, then relaxed and placed my hands on the console. A multitude of lights began to glow. I'd feel better if I actually knew what they did, or exactly how it was that the ship flew, but then, as long as she flew at my command, it honestly didn't matter all that much. I mean, I'd spent eight years going through the Stargate, and I'd never gotten any further in understanding it than Carter's worm in an apple explanation that didn't explain how it worked, it just made me hungry for apple pie.

"Okay, kids, this is your captain-general-pilot speaking. Everyone got your seat belts buckled and the tray tables stowed in the upright and locked take-off position? The Steenburgen One is ready for liftoff."

"The Steenburgen One?" Carter asked skeptically from the co-pilot's seat.

"She's hot, Carter." I meant both the actress and the ship.

"I was thinking something more like Ancient Time Ship One," the lieutenant colonel suggested seriously.

I made a face. "How boring." For someone so smart, Carter can be really short on imagination sometimes.

"I think the Steenburgen is a fine name," Dr. Lee approved from his seat in the back.

I figured Lee was only trying to get on my good side (yes, I do have one), but regardless, I accepted his vote. "That's two for the Steenburgen. You're outvoted, Carter."

"Then I guess it's the Steenburgen, sir."

I turned back to the front viewscreen. "Steenburgen One, commencing lift-off."

Hands on the controls, closing my eyes, I thought, 'fly,' and we did. The little vehicle had amazing acceleration, without any G-forces at all. We popped up, skimmed over the meadow, soared up over the trees, and did a loop-de-loop just for the hell of it — the ship had amazing aerodynamics. Finally, I executed a tree-top level flyby of the village, regretting I had no wings to waggle but hoping that I'd interrupted Harry's afternoon nap, and then zipped off toward the Stargate. I've flown some pretty hot planes in my day, including the X-303s, but this baby — woohoo. I mean, think about where you want to go and the ship goes there? How cool is that?

"Co-ordinates?" I asked Carter as soon as we arrived at the gate.

She read them off to me, and I pushed the buttons on the nifty little dialing device mounted on the dashboard. Wow, now if I had something like this to get me home from the office, skipping all the Colorado Springs traffic, that would be a worthwhile perk of the job.

Pausing before locking in the final signal, I looked over at Carter. "So, Colonel, how do we know that the gate is open to our chosen destination? I don't want to fly into a black hole or a supernova or something."

"Don't worry, sir. I'll check."

"Good."

I pushed the final signal and the wormhole exploded outward, its perfect little splash like an old fashioned water fountain leaping to life.

I *do* so love kawooshing.

Carter checked the little electronic device she was carrying, then turned to me and nodded. "We're good to go, sir."

'Go through the gate', I instructed the ship and as the nose hit the event horizon I said, "And we're off to see the wizard."

x-x

We popped out of the gate into bright sunshine. I caught a glimpse of brown sand beneath us and blue skies above us as we shot out of the ring of naquadah and skimmed over the planet's surface.

"Carter? What's this?" I waved at the scene visible out of our front viewscreen, the land zipping beneath us. "Sand?"

"Altacar is a desert planet, sir."

"You should have warned me. I didn't bring my sunscreen."

She smiled. "I don't think we'll have time for sunbathi…."

At that very moment, our nice quiet trip went all to hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**It's Good to Be King, Not So Good to Be General Part Two**

I didn't see where they came from, I didn't know who or what they were, either.

One moment we were flying along over the sand and rocks of Altacar's deserted desert landscape and the next, the little ship was careening out of control like we'd just blown a tire at Formula One speeds. The Steenburgen lurched hard right and tumbled, flipping end over end. I thought 'stop!' but she didn't, and then a wall of black slammed down on me and I stopped thinking entirely.

I couldn't have been out for long, seconds only I think, more dazed than actually unconscious. I came around to find I was lying on what would normally be the wall, the Steenburgen One resting on her side. Despite the darkness and a thin haze of smoke inside the cabin, I could see Carter and Lee lying in a tumbled mass a few feet away, her face looking white and stunned and his, minus his glasses, looking a sickly green.

Mine probably looked pretty gobsmacked, too, I figured, except for the part covered in bright red blood which was running warm and wet and sticky down the left side of my face. I brushed it out of my eyes, wiping the redness from my hand onto my BDUs.

My right shoulder throbbed painfully and my whole arm all the way down to my hand felt sort of tingly and numb. "What the hell just happened?" I asked, using my left arm to push myself up into a sitting position and blinking hard as the world around me spun and dipped sickeningly. Once things stopped swooping around, I raised my left hand until my probing fingers found a lump and a gash on the side of my head, the source of the blood on my face.

Carter was half standing, half leaning against a doohickey in the middle of the ship. "I'm not- I don't know, sir."

Oh crap. I didn't like the uncertainty in Carter's voice, because when Carter doesn't know something, no one knows, and that's not the news you want to hear when you've just crashed the Air Force's one and only Ancient time ship. I felt a sudden surge of empathy for what the captain of the Titanic must have felt on that long ago cold April night.

Pushing myself up off the floor, er, wall, I closed my eyes to stop my surroundings from swimming around like fish in a bowl and bit back a groan. My right shoulder felt like I'd been sacked by a two-ton linebacker and my right knee, never worth bragging about, seemed even creakier than normal.

"Carter, next alien ship we find, first thing we do, we install seat belts," I muttered, bracing myself to stay upright.

"Yes, sir."

"You guys all right?"

Carter nodded and pointed at my head. "Sir, you're…."

"I'm bleeding, I know," I wiped more of the wet redness off my face. "It's just a little. I'm fine." I lied and looked in back at the doctor. "You all right?"

"Mostly," answered Lee, who didn't look mostly anything but scared. He had found his glasses, however, though they looked slightly bent and sat crookedly on his face.

I honestly wasn't quite sure if I was still in one piece when the ship suddenly rocked again. I stumbled forward across the floor—wall— and scrambled toward the pilot's chair, which wasn't easy, as it was sitting about halfway up what was now the wall, and canted at about a 45 degree angle. I forced myself not to think about the last time I'd been in a place where the walls and floors swapped places, and focused my attention instead on the problem at hand.

Lifting myself up with my left arm, I wedged myself into the chair, sitting more on the armrest than on the seat, and put my hands on the controls. The interior lights fluttered and came on but kept flickering, maybe because it was hard to keep my thoughts steady, what with all the pounding going on inside my skull. I fought for concentration and the lights steadied, just as something hit us again. Hard. The ship shuddered, sparks shooting out of the overhead panels like miniature fireworks, energy snapping and crackling, and thin tendrils of smoke wafting through the air. "Either we just hit an iceberg or someone is shooting at us," I announced.

"Sir, activate the shields!"

"I'm trying!" and I was. I ignored the warm witness dripping down my face, thinking 'shields up', and then 'ship upright. The little vessel slipped more toward level, though I didn't know if that was my command or the next shot that hit us. The shields did seem to be functioning, though, because although I felt the Steenburgen tremble, she didn't seem to have suffered any significant new damage. At least, there wasn't an increase in the number of sparks flying around in the cabin, or any new clouds of smoke. "Carter! What's our situation?"

She had made her way to the back of the ship, opening up several panels and peering inside. "We've got only minimal power, sir, but shields are working. Can we cloak?"

Just then something big and dark and ominous whipped across the viewscreen. I got only a brief glimpse, but it was enough to recognize that it was a Hatak. Damned Gould. Their guns were locked in on us. Cloaking would make no difference to our chances of survival unless we could get the hell out of not just Dodge but the whole state of Kansas.

Another blast and despite the shields, the ship once more shuddered violently.

"Sir! We've got to move!" Carter shouted the obvious.

"I know that!" I snapped and ordered the ship to fly and go invisible and oh yeah, keep the shields up. How much power did Carter say we had? How many things could I think of all at once? The aircraft shuddered and slipped forward. I swore I could feel the engine, or whatever passed for an engine on this thing, grinding and straining, but we were moving. Slowly, way too slowly, we inched forward, sliding along at a bit of an angle, sort of like a duck with a wounded wing, flying off kilter. Fly right, stay low, I thought, and the little ship obeyed. Can't go where they think we might go, I told myself, so spin ninety-degrees and shoot off to the left.

The hatak was still firing at where we'd just been.

Good.

I let out a sigh of relief, but too soon.

The hatak suddenly wheeled toward where we were and fired again.

Damn! Could they see us? Was the cloak not working?

I mentally pictured fly, cloak, shields up, and then reversed course, backing away from the Gould vessel.

She kept firing, but now she was missing again, her shots kicking up sand in front of us.

So the cloak *was* on.

I sighed and relaxed, and our attacker spun toward us again.

What?

"Sir!"

"General!" Lee squeaked from somewhere behind me.

Focus, Jack, damn it. Cloak, fly, shields. I spun the ship on her beam, mentally screaming go go go. We were moving, but we were definitely damaged. The ship flew sluggishly and the deck was still slanted at a steep angle. Carter was struggling to keep her feet; Lee was huddled where the floor met the wall, looking even greener than before, if that was possible.

I concentrated on flying and staying concealed.

"Carter, find us a place to hide!" I ordered.

She plugged her laptop back into the ship's systems, her fingers racing over the keys as she frowned down at the screen. "I'm not getting anything, sir. We'll have to go visual."

Oh great.

Making her way back to the front of the ship, Carter again took the co-pilot's seat and peered out through the viewscreen.

There was nothing much to look at— the planet was barren, as far as the eye could see there was only an endless landscape of sand and rocks, no trees or anything else that would hide a ship, even one as small as this one.

I kept concentrating on ordering the ship to continue flying, stay invisible, and maintain the shields.

We limped along. I let Carter do the scanning for someplace where we could hide, I couldn't risk a lapse in concentration. All that thinking, along with the continuous dripping of blood down my face, was making my head hurt. A lot. And either this planet had a really odd, and sort of wonky, rotation, or, I realized, I was dizzy.

Very dizzy.

My vision blurred and the pain in my head spiked.

My concentration slipped.

The ship lurched and began to roll left.

"What's wrong?" Lee shouted.

"Nothing," I snapped, struggling to regain control. "Carter, find us a place to set down."

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

"Sir, the ship's systems haven't…."

"Now, Carter." I ordered, waving a hand at my thumping, bleeding head. "I may have just slightly overestimated how fine I was feeling, okay?"

"There's something over there," Carter pointed right at a small cluster of rocks and I guided the little ship in that direction.

"It won't offer much protection," she wavered. "Maybe we should keep…."

"No, it's something," which was better than nothing. "And I really, really need to land this baby." I was hanging on by a thread. Flying the ship and staying awake and maintaining the cloak and staying awake was about to overwhelm what remained of my rapidly waning energy. Bleeding a lot generally does tend to do that to a body.

I managed to fly the little ship around behind the rocks and tuck it in close in a spot where the hatek would have to fly right over us to see us. Or so I hoped.

We landed with a hard thump that set my head to pounding even more and with a relieved sigh, I let go of my focus and closed my eyes. God, that felt good. The throbbing throttled back to a more bearable, but still not fun, level.

I heard footsteps approach and Lee said "Here." And then the snapping sound of something opening. I so didn't want to open my eyes to see what was going on, my eyelids felt like they were made of lead, and my eyeballs felt ready to burst.

"Sir?" Carter asked softly.

I sighed and opened my eyes. She was standing there, looking down at me, a serious expression on her face. She held a bottle of something in her right hand and a bandage in her left.

"Okay. But gently. You *have* updated your first aid skills since…" I waved a hand.

"Since Antarctica, yes, sir. I took a whole course." She poured the liquid on the bandage and touched it to my head.

It burned like fire and I jerked away. "Ow! What is that, turpentine?"

"Sorry. It's disinfectant." She was wiping at my scalp and hair. "Sir, there's a lot of blood here and the wound appears to be still bleeding."

"Ya' think?" I closed my eyes again, reveling in the peacefulness of the darkness.

"This cut is nasty."

As if I hadn't noticed.

She pressed the bandage against the wound.

"Ow!"

"You'll need stitches."

My eyes popped wide open. "Ah, no, no you are *not*..."

"Sir, I did learn a lot from Janet…."

"Not that much." I grabbed the bandage out of her hand and gently pressed it against my head. "Have we got any aspirin?" I asked hopefully.

Carter shook her head. "Pain medications shouldn't be given with a head wound."

"My skull isn't fractured. I'd know if it was. Been there, done that, know *exactly* how it feels."

"I know that, sir, but you do have a concussion."

I couldn't argue with that, but I wasn't going to admit it, either. Manly ego-thing, you know. "Could be," that was as much as I was going to concede.

She handed me a water bottle and I gulped down several mouthfuls. It helped—the spinning inside my head was slowing, but it didn't vanish completely. My surroundings still seemed to be doing a slow, arhythmic rise and fall, shuddering like I was on a small ship in really big seas.

Still holding the bandage tightly against my head I asked, "So what's wrong with our invisibility doohickey?"

Carter was frowning, looking as puzzled as I felt. "We were able to evade the hatak so, obviously, the cloak does work, sir."

"But not the way it should."

She looked quizzically at me. "What do you mean?"

"Carter, when I tell the ship to do something, it does it, I don't know how, but it does. I think about what I want it to do and my fingers just act on their own and the ship does what it's supposed to do. And it keeps doing what I tell it to do until I tell it to do something else, like it's got an autopilot. I set the cloak and it cloaks. Set the shields and they shield. Set a course and the ship maintains it."

"Right."

"So I tell the ship to fly, and it flies, until I tell it to land. Except, after I told it to cloak, as soon as I stopped thinking about keeping it cloaked, it came un-cloaked. It shouldn't do that." I fought hard to keep the whine out of my voice, and I think I succeeded. Maybe.

"There was a lot of damage to the control circuits," Lee piped up.

"So fix them!" I snapped.

"Sir, I've been studying this ship for days, but it's the most complicated piece of technology I've ever encountered. It doesn't work like other machines, not even like other Ancient technology I've studied, and because it doesn't answer my commands, testing it has been almost impossible," Carter admitted.

I rubbed a hand over my face. "So, I take it a quick fix is out." I looked at my crewmates, all four of them, two Carters and two Lees, all of them nodding yes like two pair of identical twins, and then moved on to the next question. "So, what are our options? How long can we hide here?"

"Our water, food and first aid supplies are limited. Two days, three at most," Carter answered.

"Can we bail?"

"Sir?"

"Can we jump ship? Dig in and hideout until the cavalry comes looking for us?"

"The atmosphere on this planet is very thin, Sir. We'd be dead of oxygen deprivation within a few hours."

I sighed. "So that's a no then." I looked hopefully over at Lee. "Anything else?"

"We could go back through the gate," he offered.

"Ah, the gate activating might sort of give us away," I reminded. "You know, all that spinning, clanking, and kawooshing does generally attract attention."

"Right," Lee muttered.

"Can we leave the planet?" I asked.

"I'm not sure that we have enough power to both keep the ship cloaked and at the same time generate adequate thrust to reach escape velocity, sir."

"So we might fall back down to the planet?"

"Yes, sir. It's possible."

"And while doing so we'd be without shields and a cloak?"

"Probably, sir."

I scrubbed a hand through my hair and sighed. "Couldn't we just use the time machine thingy? You know, we could go back a few days before that ship got here, or skip right on to next week, after they go home?"

Carter shook her head negatively. "Even if we had adequate power, sir, which we don't, the relays have all been torn out of the couplings. I might be able to reroute the connections, but it will take days to repair the damage."

"We don't have days," Lee said what I was thinking.

I considered. None of the options were ideal, but some were better than others. "If we get off-planet, will they be able to track us? If I can keep the cloak activated?"

"As long as we're cloaked, they can't see us to follow us."

"Good." I looked around at the ship. "Let's—

Fifty yards in front of the ship, a geyser of sand exploded upward.

"They found us!" Lee shouted.

I spun around in my chair, put my hands back on the controls and thought, "Cloak, fly, fast."

The little ship, wounded as she was, responded. We lifted up and banked hard right, out of the path of the attack. Among other things, our inertial dampeners weren't working as they should; I could feel the g's press me hard into the seat. Things unseen crashed to the floor behind me—I could only hope they weren't vital components.

Once again, I rolled the little vessel, back to the left this time, passing right underneath the Gould ship. They were still wasting ammo blowing up dirt where we'd been.

"Sir, they're coming around!" Carter shouted.

I banked the ship and retraced our path, setting her down right where we'd been to start with.  
>"General?" Lee sounded a bit panicked.<p>

"The best place to hide is where they're least likely to look for you," I explained. "They're convinced we aren't here, because we'd be blown up if we were. So, they'll go look out there." I waved a hand at the barren sandscape in front of us.

"Oh."

"Carter, are we airworthy?"

"I'll need a minute, sir."

"A minute you get." Keeping one part of my mind concentrating on the cloak, while closing my eyes to take a break from the double vision was complicated, much more complicated than I wanted to cope with at the moment.

"They're back!" Lee shouted.

I snapped my eyes open and watched the shadow of the hatak racing over the brightly lit sand in front of us.

"Shouldn't we be moving?" Lee asked, his voice shaking nervously.

"No. They haven't seen us," I answered patiently.

"How do you know that?" the doctor demanded.

"Because they're still looking for us, and if they'd seen us, they wouldn't be just looking, they'd be shooting." I waved a hand at the viewscreen, through which we could see the Gould ship making its third long sweeping pass about a half mile in front of us. "They're executing a classic search pattern." I turned around and glared pointedly at Lee. "Shouldn't you be helping Carter?"

"Yes, sir, General," he mumbled unhappily, but went in back to help the colonel.

-x-x-x-x-x

An hour later, the hatak was still making long looping sweeps across the desert in front of us. A bit further away, true, but not far enough for us to safely uncloak.

Two hours later, they were still doing the same thing.

Three hours later, ditto.

And it was starting to get on my nerves. Correction, it was already on my nerves. Which were pretty much shot.

Because I had to continue, non-stop, concentrating on keeping our little time ship invisible.

Ever played hide and seek for hours? When you were the seekee? I can tell you, it's *so* not fun. It's tedious, tiring and, well, really boring. Add to that, I was thirsty, hungry and worst of all, my head was still thumping like a bass drum in a high school marching band doing the six miles of the Rose Bowl Parade, and that's a lot of thumping. What I really wanted but wasn't going to get, was a break, even a nap.

All that concentrating, I tell you, it's exhausting. Have you ever tried keeping one thought at the forefront of your brain for hours at a time? Even without the whole spectrum of concussion symptoms, it would have been trying.

Just when I thought my brain was going to turn into mush, something happened.

The hatak suddenly stopped flying its unending, lazy search pattern.

"Crap," I muttered.

"Sir?" Carter must have heard me. She left whatever doohickey she and Dr. Lee were whispering about in the back of the ship and hurried forward, peering over my shoulder. "What happened?"

I pointed at the hatak. "They stopped."

And stopped they were. The alien ship was hanging in the air, hovering like a giant kite, about two klicks in front of us.

"What's it doing?" Carter asked.

"Damned if I know," I answered honestly.

"Ships' sensors?"

"Aren't working. Like most everything else."

"We're trying, sir."

"And obviously not succeeding."

"No, sir," she answered sounding frustrated. "There's a lot about this ship that we just don't understand."

I sighed. "Welcome to *my* world, Carter."

x-x

At least the Gould's change in tactics gave me something new to think about. I had the feeling they were the fox sitting in front of the rabbit hole, and we, of course, were the rabbit. An invisible rabbit, true, but how long we could remain invisible was beginning to be a question. Sooner or later, my concentration was going to lapse — it was inevitable. Checking my watch, I was going on about 24 hours sleepless. Oh, sure, I used to do the work-all-day, party-all-night thing, back in the good old days when I was younger, much younger. You try it when you're at an age where the AARP is sending you mail, and see how long you last. And oh, yeah, don't forget to add in the head ringing, eyes glazing, fighting off the double vision, pretty damn likely I have a concussion syndrome.

The fact was, my concentration *was* going to slip, there was no doubt about that. And when it did, we were sitting ducks. The ship had no ammunition left in its weapons systems, we'd used the last of those on our previous flight, the one that saved Harry's world, and his sorry ass.

Okay. It was time to do something, even if it was the wrong thing. Guess I'd rather die trying than die waiting.

"Carter!" She and Lee had been working in the back of the ship for hours, talking in low tones, doing I didn't know what.

"Sir?"

"You making any progress back there with any of the ships, ah, doohickeys?"

Moving carefully on the still slanted deck, she walked forward to stand just behind the co-pilot's seat. "Some, sir. We've managed to increase the power reserve by one point six percent."

"Oooh, one point six percent," I snarked.

"I know it doesn't sound like much, sir, but it *is* significant."

"Significant enough to get us out of here, as in enough power for this thing to reach escape velocity?"

She frowned, and I knew she was doing the math in her head. "I'm not sure about that significant, sir."

I scrubbed my left hand through my hair in frustration. "Carter, nothing is certain except death and taxes, and in this case, I'm choosing taxes."

She looked confused. "Taxes, sir?"

"Don't need to pay taxes if you're dead, Carter. So I'm going to take a chance on evading death and make plans to file that pesky form 1040 instead."

Carter smiled thinly. "Right, sir. What's the plan?"

"Fly her up that way." I pointed toward the sky.

She frowned, and I knew she was thinking again. "Sir, Doctor Lee and I might be able to double that power increase. Give us another hour."

I closed my eyes in frustration and raised my hand to touch the blood-stained bandage wrapped around my head. "Carter, I don't think I have another hour here. I'm tired. My head hurts. Having to constantly 'think' to keep the cloak working is making my brain spin."

"I understand."

Well, I knew she didn't, not really, because unless you've flown one of these Ancient ships, you really don't know what it feels like, but that was neither here nor there at the moment. "We're going. Now."

"Yes, sir." She nodded and hurried back to her computer.

I placed my hands on the gel-pack controls and told the ship to move. Slowly, I eased the little flyer into motion, turning to my left, and then we began to climb. Her response was sluggish and slow, and she still flew with a distinct list, but she flew.

"Here's our optimum trajectory, sir," Carter had brought her laptop up to show me. "You need to increase the angle of our ascent, to match this." The computer screen showed a blinking red line, our current flight path, and well above it, a blinking green line. Watching the screen like I was playing a computer game, I adjusted the ship's trajectory. The little vessel groaned and shuddered, and I had to keep fighting her tendency to drift off to the left. My eyes were burning, the headache pounding through my skull as I concentrated, leaning forward, muscles straining as if I was physically lifting the little ship away from the planet's surface.

Concentrate, Jack.

Keep the cloak on.

Fly higher.

Keep cloaked.

Fly higher.

Keep cloaked.

Fly higher.

"Forty percent escape velocity," Carter stated.

I was concentrating so hard, her words startled me and my concentration wavered. The ship slowed, like I'd pulled my foot off the gas pedal of my pickup, jerking hard to the left.

Damn.

Cloakflyhigher.

"Forty-five percent escape velocity."

This time, her words weren't such a surprise, and I kept control of the little flyer, pushing her, and she surged upward.

"Fifty-five percent escape velocity."

Cloakflyhigher.

I could feel the acceleration softly pushing me back into my chair. Obviously the inertial dampeners were working, somewhat.

"Sixty-two percent escape velocity."

Cloakflyhigher.

"Sixty-nine percent escape velocity, sir."

"Seventy-five percent escape velocity."

"Eighty-two percent escape velocity."

The g-forces were building.

"Ninety percent escape velocity."

"Ninety four percent escape velocity."

"Ninety-six percent escape velocity."

I could feel the little spaceship straining, the engine whining loudly with a disturbing humm, and I could hear unknown but hopefully unimportant things rattling around in the back of the cabin. My head felt like it was splitting in two and my hands on the controls were slick with sweat.

"Ninety-eight."

Carter's voice was tight.

"Ninety-nine point two."

Fly, damn you, I thought, fly.

"Ninety-nine point seven."

Cloakflyhigher.

Oh God, my brain was sizzling, like eggs in a hot frying pan. My ears were ringing and sparks were flashing in front of my eyes, and I wasn't sure if they were real or just going on inside my head.

"Ninety-nine point — escape velocity, sir! You've done it!" Carter's voice was triumphant.

I felt it the moment we cleared the gravity well. Suddenly, the ship surged forward like we were now coasting downhill, and the g-forces disappeared. I felt light in my seat, on the verge of floating, and then I heard someone groaning, and belatedly realized it was me. And I sounded bad.

"Sir, are you okay?" Carter's worried face materialized in front of me.

"No," I admitted, and then I felt myself losing control and slipping out of the chair. I was out cold before I hit the floor.

x-x x-x x-x x-x


	3. Chapter 3

**It's Good to Be King, Not so Good to be General ****Part Three**

The time ship was floating, rudderless and adrift in space.

It had happened the moment the general passed out. Like someone had turned off the ignition switch, the engines had cut out and all the systems shut down. Well, life support was working at about 60%, Carter had determined. And the emergency lights had stayed on, but none of the electronics worked, like navigation. And the cloak wasn't working either, of course. Nor the engine.

For the moment, they were relatively safe. There was no sign of the Hatak. From what little they could see out the viewscreen, there was no evidence that the enemy ship was in pursuit. Carter fervently hoped that it was still sitting down on the planet, waiting patiently, and vainly, for its prey to reveal itself.

So it seemed that they were safe from the enemy for the time being.

Of course, Colonel Carter knew, they were quite certain to die anyway, unless the general regained consciousness.

Of which there was no sign.

When he'd unceremoniously slid out of the chair, Sam and Lee had moved him to a more comfortable spot on the floor, cushioning his head with his jacket and covering him with a blanket from the emergency stores. She'd checked his pulse, steady enough though a bit sluggish. She blamed his collapse on a combination of his injuries, blood loss, exhaustion and lack of sleep. Worry nagged at her, though, remembering how well he'd hidden his internal injuries when they were back in Antarctica. Was he injured more severely than the cut on his head? He'd admitted to having a concussion — was there more? He'd told her once that he'd suffered skull fractures in that parachute accident years ago in Iraq — had he suffered the same again?

Carter occupied the time by inventorying their supplies — three canteens of potable water, nearly full; a half dozen power bars, two MREs, a pack of chewing gum, and two Snickers bars. Not much to survive on, if the General didn't wake up soon.

Of course, lack of oxygen would kill them long before they starved to death, which wasn't any consolation.

And then there was their steadily decaying orbit that was going to drag them down into the atmosphere, after which they'd either burn up on re-entry or crash into the planet in a very spectacular fireball.

x-x x-x x-x x-x

"Sir, wake up, sir. General!"

Someone was calling my name.

An obviously irritated someone was shouting at me, loudly, and not at all as deferentially as someone ought to be addressing a real live general, although, at the moment, I wasn't too sure about the 'live' part.

"Damn it, sir. Wake up!"

I didn't want to.

"Mmm." It wasn't an answer worthy of a general, but it was the best I could muster for the moment, and it did seem to prove that I was actually still alive.

"Sir, wake up, now! We're in trouble."

That got my attention. Trouble I was familiar with. "Carter?" I mumbled, recognizing the voice at last.

"Yes, sir. Are you awake?"

"Sort of," I admitted around the thundering inside my skull.

"Sir, you need to wake up now!"

"We're in trouble, General!" that was another voice, a frantic, on the verge of panic one, not at all like Carter's 'we may be on the brink of disaster but I haven't pushed the panic button yet' tone. It wasn't Teal'c or Daniel either. "General, please!" Wait, I knew that voice too - Dr. Lee, head of the SGC's science geeks.

I opened my eyes and looked blearily around, recognizing the interior of the little ship. "What's wrong, Carter?"

"We're adrift in space, sir."

Ah, yes, space, the final frontier, vast, infinite, empty. "Isn't that where we wanted to be?" I was pushing myself up to a sitting position, which was slightly less uncomfortable than lying on the floor, which was not doing my back a bit of good.

Sitting up made the headache spike, though.

"Yes, sir, we wanted to be off the planet," Carter launched into her not so patient explaining mode. "but when you lost consciousness the ship began to…"

When she started spouting six syllable words and talking about ships systems and power levels, I waved a hand to stop her. "Achhh. Stop. Bottom line, Carter. Please."

"We're in trouble, sir. You see…."

I tilted my head and glared.

She stopped and refocused, giving me the short version. "We're about to hit atmosphere, and when we do, we'll create a huge flare lighting up the night sky. That Goa'uld ship won't be able to miss it even if they're all asleep."

"Why didn't you just say so Carter?" I sighed and pushed myself up off the floor, climbing back to the pilot's seat. I did feel somewhat better —things were only wobbling around a little rather than bouncing around like a tiny boat in a huge sea. The moment I touched the controls the ship flared back to life, though it still sounded like it was only firing on about three cylinders and desperately needed a tune-up.

I saw the relief on Carter's face, and Lee's, too. "Okay, so now that we're not going to burn up like a meteor, what next?" I asked.

"I'd like to go home," Lee suggested.

"So would I," I admitted. "Carter? Any objection?"

"No, sir, except…."

Oh, I hate it when she says that word, because what follows is never good news. Never, ever.

"Except what, Carter?" I asked peevishly.

"Except home is days away."

"I thought this trip was only supposed to take a couple of hours."

"It was, sir, and it would, if the engines were functioning at full power."

"I take it they're not then?" I asked wearily.

"No, sir, they're not."

"Oiy." Okay, so I wouldn't be home for tonight's episode of _The Simpsons_, but we'd get there. I sighed, closing my eyes for a blessed few seconds, but when I reopened them, nothing had changed. We were still on the little Ancient time ship, way out in space, chugging along like the little engine that almost could. "While I was out, you didn't happen to find the aspirin, did you Carter?" I asked pleadingly.

At least she looked apologetic. "No, sir, sorry, sir, no aspirin."

I sighed. It was going to be a very long trip.

x-x

We settled into a pattern, limping along slowly toward home. I'd fly the ship for a couple of hours while my headache gradually soared to raging new heights that threatened to make my head explode, and then I'd go to the back of the ship, lie down and nap for an hour or two while Carter or Lee stood watch. It wasn't enough sleep to be really refreshing, or even clear up the nagging headache that had taken up residence inside my skull, but it was the best we could do.

And things did seem to be going along okay, though slowly.

Until they found us again.


	4. Chapter 4

**It's Good to be King, Not so Good to be General Part Four**

I was jarred out of my nap, and a very short nap it was, by Bill Lee's frantic shouts.

"General O'Neill! General O'Neill! They're back! They've found us! General O'Neill!"

Only half awake, I lurched to my feet and stumbled to the front of the ship just as the little vessel took a hit amidships. The time ship slewed hard to the right, throwing me into the bulkhead, my already badly bruised shoulder taking the brunt of the blow, and sloshing my brain around in my skull again.

Pain exploded in my head and from my shoulder clear down my arm to my fingertips and I nearly passed out but I shook my head and ignored it. Pushing myself upright I stumbled forward, dropping into the pilot's seat, still trying to get my bearings. Automatically, I thought 'cloak' and 'fly right' and though we didn't move fast, we moved and apparently disappeared because our old friend Mr. Hatak kept right on firing along the line where we had been and thankfully, not where we were.

Whew.

But I couldn't relax, because I had to keep my focus.

And that wasn't easy because my head was throbbing again, a high pitched whine reverberating inside my head in a really, really nasty way. "Carter?"

"Sir, you're head wound - you're bleeding again."

Wincing because moving my arm added a whole other hurt to the mix, I raised my hand up to touch the bandage wrapped around my skull and confirmed Carter's observations, my fingers touching fresh, wet blood leaking from my lacerated scalp.

Oiy.

Knowing that the Gould ship was still sniffing around in search of us, I didn't dare take another siesta as we approached earth.

It was a marathon flight the rest of the way. Ever wonder why there are such strict rules about how many consecutive hours an airline pilot can fly? Even ones without bleeding scalp wounds, throbbing shoulders and pounding headaches? It's because flying is hard work. Sure it's fun, but it takes concentration as well as skill and experience.

Yup, it's just slightly rather important that your pilot be awake. Especially on a plane, er, time ship, where the autopilot isn't working.

So I stayed awake, Carter and Dr. Lee taking turns keeping me that way, which means they didn't dare talk about science geek stuff but had to focus on interesting topics like hockey, _The_ _Simpson,s _and Mary Steenburgen. It turns out that Bill Lee has good taste for a geek — he not only likes Mary Steenburgen, he likes Uma Thurman, too. Who woulda thunk it? I may put him back on my Christmas list after all.

Finally, after what seemed like an endless flight, a little blue planet eventually crawled into view. Talk about a relief.

I have to tell you, the sight of Earth from space never gets old — it's so blue and beautiful that even I take notice. And if I look hard enough, I actually can see my house, I thought with a grin, though a very tired grin it was.

I put the little ship into orbit, called the SGC and announced our intentions to land at Area 51, and commenced landing.

We took a little buffeting as we hit the atmosphere but despite the exhaustion of the pilot, things were going just peachy, and I was really looking forward to finally getting that aspirin I'd been craving.

The brown of the Nevada desert was nicely coming into focus as we descended, Carter counting down our altitude and speed.

Just when I began to relax, thinking the whole misadventure was about to turn out okay, the doodoo hit the fan, or, more exactly, the little time ship hit the ground.

I knew we were coming in fast, real fast and I ordered the little ship to ease up.

But it didn't ease, not up or down or sideways. I suppose it had something to do with a sort of grinding sound the engines had been making all the way from Harry's World, like an internal combustion engine in dire need of an overhaul, a really major overhaul. Which apparently it did, because not only was the engine wonky, so were the brakes.

We were slowing down, but not nearly enough.

"We need to decrease our rate of descent, sir," Carter was sounding a little worried, and then her voice got even more high pitched, sounding a lot worried. "We're coming in too fast, sir!"

I threw her a look but that was all I could spare as I concentrated on trying to control the ship, which started yawing wildly as I attempted tacking into the wind to slow us down.

It worked, some.

Just not enough.

We dropped out of the sky like a rock, the ground rushing up at us, coming in way too fast.

In a swirl of dust, we hit the ground.

Hard.

Way too hard.

You know that old line about a good landing being any one you can walk away from?

This wasn't a good landing.

x-x

I came to as I was being lifted out of the ship, strapped down to one of those backboard thingies with one of those uncomfortable stabilization collars wrapped around my neck.

I flailed a hand around in the air and when an unfamiliar face appeared above me, asked, "The others?"

"They're on their way to the hospital, sir."

"Alive?"

"Yes, general. In better shape than you are, sir."

That was all I needed to know.

x-x

I don't know how much later it was when I woke up with a groan, opening my eyes just long enough to realize I was in a far too familiar place — the SGC's infirmary. Quickly, I closed them again and savored the peaceful darkness.

"Sir?" asked an unfamiliar voice.

My eyes still firmly closed, I waved a hand in the air and ordered, with as much authority as I could muster given the circumstances, "Go away."

"Sir?"

"Go away."

"Sir!" the voice insisted.

I opened one eye and glared balefully at the nurse, who was very young and very nervous and absolutely someone I did not know. "Do you know who I am?"

"General O'Neill, sir," she answered promptly.

"And you are?" Her name badge was far too fuzzy for me to read. When did they start making them so small, I wondered?

"Lieutenant Miles, sir, Megan Miles."

I closed my eyes again and muttered, "Do you know what happens to lieutenants who disregard orders from generals?"

Her voice sounded less self-assured. "Ah, yes sir."

"Then follow my order. Go away."

"Sorry, sir. I can't, sir."

"Yes, you can," I answered patiently.

"No sir. My orders are to…"

Okay, this was too much. I sat up, way too fast according to the way the movement made my head spin and my shoulder flash with pain. "Lieutenant, have you ever heard of the concept of chain of command?" I asked, dredging up my best command voice.

She nodded and acted like she was going to say something, but I waved a finger through the air at her, glaring, and she subsided. "It means that officers of lower ranks are required to obey the orders of officers of higher ranks, correct?"

She nodded.

"Since I am a general and you are a lieutenant..."

Her mouth moved like she was going to say something but I waved that finger again, and she subsided.

"And I, the general, just gave you, the lieutenant, an order, which you are obliged to obey."

"But.…"

"Ach!" If I had to do any more finger waving, my hand was going to need a splint. "Unless someone whose rank is higher than brigadier general ordered you to do whatever it is you were about to do, don't do it!"

She looked a little baffled, as if she was trying to puzzle through what I'd just said, and failing, which wasn't all that unexpected. I'll admit, I can be a little obtuse even when I'm wide awake on a day when my head doesn't hurt, which it did, dreadfully, at that moment.

I wanted aspirin and coffee, both in large doses.

"But…."

"Ach! No buts!"

"But sir, these are doctor's orders..."

Doctor's orders. Crap. Who, I wondered, had given doctors a dispensation from the rules? I'd forgotten how doctors, who are very good at giving orders, so rarely have to obey them. It's so not fair — here I was a general and I still had to listen to a doctor, a doctor I outranked by at least two pay grades and 15 if not 20 years of service. It's just not right.

I sighed, sank back down on the bed, closed my eyes and gave in to the inevitable. "Do what you have to do, lieutenant. And then, send Walter down here. And Reynolds. And that squirrel-faced accountant fella. And Mallory. Harper, too. And bring me a phone - "

My off world interlude was over. I was back in the SGC, and a general's work, no matter how big his headache, is never done.

And then suddenly it struck me that ol' Harry had outsmarted me again.

On Earth, generals didn't, but I'd bet that on his world, kings outranked doctors.

_ The End _


End file.
